


Second Thoughts

by mithrel



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Blanket Permission, Gen, Nightmares, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-26
Updated: 2009-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turlough reflects on his life with the Doctor after going home to Trion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Thoughts

_I should have stayed with the Doctor,_ Turlough reflected, as he brought his groceries inside the house. Political prisoners might no longer be _officially_ persecuted on Trion, but his name was infamous, and people were treating him like scum. One man had been bold enough to spit at his feet, in full view of a Lawkeeper, who’d done nothing.

But that was typical. Whispers and jeers followed him wherever he went, he was always overcharged, and he’d learned to stay the hell out of crowds, since every time he was in one, he was jostled, shoved, and even tripped so that he fell against other people, who shoved him away in turn. Some of that was to be expected, of course, but he was certain this was deliberate. It happened _every time,_ and he could never see who’d done it.

He’d been accustomed to that type of treatment on Earth, but travelling with the Doctor had made him appreciate just how bad his situation here was. As he put the food away, he reflected back on the past year or so, with the Time Lord.

* * *

“Why don’t you ever _listen?_ ” the Doctor complained, glaring at Turlough. “I tell you to stay in the TARDIS, and instead you and Tegan wander off and get lost on a plague ship!”

Turlough glared at him. “So why aren’t you lecturing her too?” He was still shaky from the jolt the Black Guardian had given him, and he was upset, so he took refuge in sullenness. He didn’t belong on Earth, and he thought he’d found a way to freedom…all he had to do was kill a man he’d never met. He had killed before; he shouldn’t be balking at this.

It was something about the Doctor. After he’d found Turlough hiding on his ship, he should have taken him back to Earth, or else left him where he was at the time, whether or not it was habitable. But he hadn’t. He’d welcomed him, allowed him to stay on the TARDIS, despite Nyssa’s caution and Tegan’s outright dislike.

Turlough couldn’t kill him. He respected and admired the Doctor, as he hadn’t respected and admired anyone for years. He couldn’t bring himself to betray the trust that he didn’t deserve; trust that should have seemed foolish, but didn’t.

“I’ll deal with her later. Promise me you won’t wander off again.”

Turlough gaped at him. “What do you care?” he blurted out, before he could think.

The Doctor looked surprised. “You’re travelling with me. That makes you my responsibility,” he replied, as though it should be obvious.

“I can take care of myself!” Turlough said mutinously.

The Doctor sighed. “I know that. But I worry about you.”

Somewhat floored by this admission, Turlough agreed. “All right, I won’t wander off again.”

“Splendid!” The Doctor beamed at him, then left the console room.

* * *

The Black Guardian was gone. He didn’t have that voice whispering threats in his head anymore. And he was _still_ on the TARDIS, despite everything. When he’d tried to talk to the Doctor, he’d brushed him off.

“Doctor, I…can I talk to you?”

“Hmm?”

“I _said_ can I talk to you?”

The Doctor stood up from where he was kneeling on the floor working on the console. “Certainly, Turlough.”

Now that the Doctor was giving him his full attention, Turlough was uncomfortable. “About the Guardian…”

The Doctor waved a hand in the air, dismissing the whole thing. “Don’t worry about it, Turlough. Cleverer people than you have been duped by the Black Guardian.”

 _But I wasn’t duped._ He couldn’t bring himself to admit the fact that he’d agreed willingly, and just nodded. “I suppose you’ll be taking me back to Earth now.” Back into exile, back into life on an alien planet where no one understood him and everyone hated him, with no possibility of escape.

“Well, if you want. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t travel a bit with me first.”

“Travel? With you?” _After I tried to kill him?_

“Why, don’t you want to?”

“Oh, I want to!” Turlough replied quickly. He had nowhere else to go, and the Doctor treated him better than anyone had in a long time. “I just thought you wouldn’t want me here anymore after…” he trailed off. “Tegan certainly doesn’t want me here.”

The Doctor shrugged. “She’ll come round. Give her time.” He paused. “You wanted to get off Earth rather badly. Where were you going to go?”

Turlough paused a long moment before answering. “Home.” _Stupid. If I set foot on Trion or any of the colony worlds they’d kill me on sight._ But he’d been so tired of Earth…he was almost willing to risk death for a sight of his home planet.

The Doctor nodded, but didn’t ask for more information, to Turlough’s relief. “Maybe I can drop you there when you get tired of the TARDIS.”

Turlough nodded, although privately he doubted he’d ever get tired of the TARDIS. Dangerous aliens and hostile Australians notwithstanding, he was happier here than he’d ever been on Earth.

* * *

After the catastrophe on Frontios, he’d expected questions from the Doctor, about who he was and where he came from, questions he didn’t want to answer. But all that happened was that the Time Lord put a hand on his shoulder as they were leaving. “All right?”

Turlough nodded, although visions of people sinking into the earth kept intruding into his mind. “I’m fine.”

The Doctor took him at his word. Turlough almost wished he would insist that he talk about it. Almost.

That night, he lay in bed for four hours, according to his wristwatch, although given the nature of time on the TARDIS it might have been longer, trying to sleep, before finally drifting off. As soon as he did, the nightmares started.

 _The Tractatas were there, as he’d expected, reaching for him. He ran from them, down the tunnel, stumbling on the uneven floor, hearing them behind him. He didn’t know where the exit to the surface was, and he couldn’t run very fast in the dim light. He felt a hand grab him and pull him backward..._

Then the dream changed.

 _He was on the TARDIS, in the console room, talking to the Doctor. He relaxed. The Tractatas couldn’t reach him on the TARDIS._

 _He turned to the Doctor, to find that the console room floor had softened and the Doctor was being sucked down._

 _“Turlough, help me!”_

 _But he couldn’t move. No matter how he tried, or how much the Doctor pleaded with him, he simply could not make his legs close the short distance between them. He watched in horror as the Doctor sank down—waist, chest, chin. With a final despairing “Turlough!” he was gone and the console room floor was whole again._

 _“NO!!!_ ” Turlough screamed, fighting to be free of the earth that trapped him…then he realized it wasn’t earth, but blankets.

The TARDIS. He was on the TARDIS. They’d stopped the Gravis, the Doctor was safe.

But was he? Rationally, he knew the nightmare was just a product of the race memory that had been stirred up by seeing the Tractatas, and that the chances of the TARDIS floor sucking anyone down, much less the Doctor, were almost nonexistent.

Nevertheless, he got up. He wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight, so he might as well not bother trying. He went to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would settle his nerves.

He was surprised, when he got to the kitchen, to find the lights on. The Doctor was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a muffin, reading. He looked up as Turlough entered, and smiled. “I thought you’d be along at some point. Would you like a cup of tea? It’s still hot.” He pointed to the teapot next to him.

“You’re alright!” Turlough wanted to kick himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course the Doctor was alright, nothing could get into the TARDIS! He was being stupid.

The Doctor looked at him oddly, but said simply, “Yes, I’m fine.” He gave Turlough a searching look. “What about you?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed.

The Doctor nodded. “Bad dreams?”

“Yeah.”

“Not surprising. Race memory’s unpredictable at the best of times. You have to let it come through gradually.”

“Which I didn’t,” Turlough said, fetching a cup and pouring himself some tea.

“Yes. You’ll probably have nightmares for at least a week.”

“A _week!?_ ” _I can’t stand another week of nights like this one!_ “Can’t you do anything?” he asked the Doctor, a bit desperately.

“Ordinarily I could, but racial memories can’t be removed. You’re just going to have to work through this on your own.”

On his own. “I see.” He left his half-full cup of tea on the table, and stood up. “Well, goodnight then.”

“Turlough.”

He turned around.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” the Doctor said, “I just meant that I can’t erase the memory. Sit down.”

He did.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Turlough winced. “Not particularly.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Where are we going next?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

The Doctor shrugged. “I’m never really sure.”

“Probably somewhere with people shooting at us,” Turlough muttered.

“Oh, possibly,” the Doctor said lightly. “Still, in my experience, everything turns out alright in the end.”

Turlough laughed bitterly. Sure, he wasn’t stuck on Earth anymore, but he couldn’t go home, and he’d just been through the worst experience of all his time with the Doctor. He hadn’t expected to encounter the creatures who’d ravaged his homeworld on an Earth colony so far in the future.

The Doctor smiled at him sympathetically. “Mostly, anyway.”

Turlough yawned unexpectedly, then shook his head. “I guess I’d better try to get some sleep.”

The Doctor nodded. “I don’t sleep much, as a rule, so if you have insomnia again and need company…”

“Thanks. Goodnight, Doctor.”

“Goodnight, Turlough. Sleep well.”

Turlough knocked on the table twice, his knuckles rapping against the wood, smiled at the Doctor, then headed off to bed.

* * *

Not long after that, they’d landed on Sarn, and he and Malkon had been invited back to Trion. He’d jumped at the chance. To be able to go home, and have his brother with him…He hadn’t wanted to leave the Doctor, he’d changed for the better since knowing him, but he would probably never get the chance again.

Malkon was adjusting better; he’d only been an infant when the war broke out, so people didn’t know his name. But he came in for his fair share of abuse, since he was Turlough’s brother.

 _I should have stayed. Then no one would know Malkon was related to me, and I’d still be travelling with the Doctor, rather than stuck here being harassed._

Still, he’d never been one to regret past decisions once they were made. He was stuck with the situation, and the only thing he could do was try to change it. Still, he wondered where the Doctor was, if he was all right, and whether he’d forgotten all about him.


End file.
